


How to Woo Your Starfleet Engineer 101

by twerkinshield



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Blow Jobs, Dorks in Love, Fingerfucking, First Time, IT Worker!Stiles, M/M, Rimming, Teachers Assistant!Derek, excessive pop culture references
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-11-09
Updated: 2013-11-09
Packaged: 2017-12-31 22:43:50
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,323
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1037246
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/twerkinshield/pseuds/twerkinshield
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Stiles and Derek work at the same university together, Derek is a web design and marketing TA and Stiles is the genius head of IT. Derek hates the shitty school computers and ends up calling Stiles all the time to help him, and sparks fly over the phone. But they don’t actually meet until Erica sneaks Stiles into one of Derek’s lectures to force them to finally meet face to face. Stiles stays afterwards to blow off some steam. And blow Derek.</p>
            </blockquote>





	How to Woo Your Starfleet Engineer 101

**Author's Note:**

  * For [GlitterAnts](https://archiveofourown.org/users/GlitterAnts/gifts).



> Because Sarah (tumblr yellowcityheart) is one of my most glorious muses I dedicate this fic to her in celebration of her new job! Bless you and may your orgasms be long and plentiful darling <3333
> 
> Also because I think we can all agree that Derek is a closet nerd of the greatest calibre.

Derek sighs dramatically, his shitty university-provided laptop fizzing out once more on him, turning into the dreaded neon blue screen of death. He removes his glasses and rubs his eyes tiredly, he’s getting too old for this shit and the fucking university seems to think budget cuts in all the wrong places are somehow helping the students. Fucking _wrong_. With fifty-three final papers to grade for his marketing class and assorted web programs from his web design class, Derek barely has time to sleep, let alone file an official complaint with the school’s administration.

So, he calls Stiles.

Again.

It’s getting to be an unfortunately common occurrence, given the rebellious nature of Derek’s computer. He’d first called the IT department three years prior during his first year as a TA, and somehow he’d gotten the newbie.

Of course.

The conversation had quickly turned on Derek’s head as he realized the guy he was talking to definitely knew his way around computers, even if his technological wisdom came with a healthy helping of sarcasm and pop culture references. And so, after some sharp retorts and several Star Trek references later, Derek’s laptop was up and running like usual. By the end of the conversation, he realized he was totally relaxed, the tension having bled out of him in the course of the phone call.

Which brings us to Derek’s current predicament.

“Laura! Is it actually possible to be in love with someone even though you’ve never seen them in person?”

“What the fuck.”

Derek chokes on nothing, flails for a moment, and then smashes his head down onto his non-functioning keyboard. He only ever phones Laura when there’s something urgent going on. This counts as urgent… right?

“Well, there’s this guy – “

“Isn’t there always?” he listens as Laura cackles.

“Shut up. Anyways, he works in IT and isn’t a complete idiot _and_ he actually gets all the Star Trek and Doctor Who references I make!”

“Well shit! Tag him and bag him baby bro! Time and tide wait for no man!”

“Yeah but… I’ve never even seen him. Is that weird?”

“Yes _._ ”

“Wow. Thanks for the vote of confidence.”

“Hey I’m just saying it’s weird! Not bad though. It’s kinda like a blind date then? Fuck it, just ask him out, and if he says no you can just hang up and never call again. Simple!”

“Yeaaaaaah, right. I’m gonna go now.”

“GO GET SOME DEREK! YOU GET GRUMPY WHEN YOU DON’T GET LAID!”

Derek hangs up without a shred of remorse.

And, after flailing around his office for another few minutes, calls Stiles.

“Star Fleet HQ please state your name, rank, and ship identification and we will patch you through to the appropriate commander.”

Derek grins to himself, “Uh, Commander Derek, looking for Captain Stiles.”

“Commander! Good to hear from you again!” Derek can practically _feel_ the smirk coming through the phone, “And so _soon_.”

“I swear to god, if the administration doesn’t extend the budget enough to get us new laptops by the end of the year I’m going to pull a Khan and land a goddamn Starship on the main building.”

“It’s that bad huh? Well tell me what happened,” the distant clicking of Stiles’ keyboard filters through the line.

“The blue screen of death.”

“Ah,” says Stiles expectantly. “Yeah for once it’s not just you whose gone and fucked up.”

“Well that’s a relief.”

“You tried and therefore no one can criticize you! Except for me. I’m the only one who’s allowed to do that! Anyways, turn it off and flip it over and I’ll walk you through the reboot process.”

“Okay,” Derek obediently complies with Stiles’ instructions. “So what’s been going down over at HQ to have everyone all up in arms?”

Stiles sighs gustily, clearly annoyed, “Some dumbass newbie intern that administration foisted on us went and somehow recalibrated the entire school-wide system without telling anyone. So we’ve spent all morning running around like headless chickens trying to fix it. Needless to say, they’ll be getting a _very_ strongly worded letter in their complaint box by the end of the day.”

“I don’t really see you as the angry letter type. Oh, and my laptop is off and flipped.”

“No? Well what type do you see me as?”

“You seem immature enough to send a flaming bag of dog shit right to their office door.”

“Hey! I resent that!”

“But you _would_ do it,” Derek grins, waiting for confirmation.

“Just flip your goddamn computer and wait for my instructions Commander,” Stiles replies haughtily.

Derek snickers through the phone, balancing the headpiece between his shoulder and his ear while he carefully removes the back casing of his laptop. Fifteen minutes later sees Derek’s computer back to speed and running smoothly, while Stiles celebrates yet another victory over technology.

“And _this_ is why they pay me the mediocre bucks.”

Derek snorts, “Well you guys are probably paid more than us.”

“Wait, I’ve never asked, what exactly _is_ your job?” queries Stiles.

“I’m a TA for the first year marketing and web design classes. It’s full of hot shot young entrepreneurs and Photoshop nerds.”

“Dude! I thought you were like, a librarian or something!?”

Derek throws his head back and laughs, “Why the hell would you think that?”

“I don’t know,” Stiles says contemplatively. “You just sound like the kind of guy who would tear someone a new asshole for being too loud in the library. Or if someone damaged a book and returned it without fixing it… quiet but deadly!”

Derek hums, Stiles isn’t wrong, “Well I did work at the library help desk when I was a student here.”

“Aha! I _knew_ I was right!” Stiles cackles. “I’m a full blown Jedi here dude!”

Derek chuckles and listens to Stiles giggle. Suddenly, the phone is wrenched out of Stiles’ grasp and a warm, sultry female voice filters through the line.

“Hello? Are you Stiles’ boyfriend?”

Derek freezes, hearing Stiles yelling some girl’s name in the background, along with many other obscenities.

“GOD DAMMIT ERICA GIVE ME BACK THE PHONE!”

“Uh, no, no I’m not?”

“Well why the fuck not?” Erica purrs.

“Because…” Derek panics. “We’ve never even met. I don’t even know what he looks like!” Aha! Throw-off tactic!

“Well that’s easily remedied,” says Erica, smoothly slicing away Derek’s supposedly foolproof plan. “Because I recognize your voice and if you don’t come visit Stiles and actually meet him I _will_ bodily drag Stiles to one of your lectures and we’ll heckle you inappropriately the entire time. Capisce?”

Derek sputters, mortification and terror fighting for dominance on his face, his heart pumps erratically in his chest.

“Alright?” he squeaks.

“Good, goodbye Derek!” the ensuing scuffle lets Derek hear the muted sounds of rolling chairs and multiple girly slaps.

“DEREK OH GOD I AM SO SORRY! I PROMISE THAT WASN’T SEXUAL HARASSMENT! She’s not normally so annoying I swear to god I just – “

“Stiles!” barks Derek, worried that he’ll have a heart attack over the phone. “It’s all right! Come to think of it, she actually kind of reminds me of my sister…”

“What? With the rudeness?” snarks Stiles.

“Nah, more like the signature awkward bossiness that older siblings have.”

“Well I wouldn’t know. Precious only child and all that,” Stiles coughs awkwardly.

“Awww you were the baby of the family?” coos Derek.

“Fuck you sourpuss! May a curse be forever upon your computer!”

“I think there already is. Do you guys practice active witchcraft over in IT or am I just technologically challenged?”

“Both. On Fridays we were summoning robes,” Stiles snorts. “But seriously though, I’m sorry if she made you uncomfortable I didn’t mean to – “

“Stiles, it’s all good,” says Derek softly.

“… Really?”

“Yeah,” Derek glances at the clock. “Shit, I’ve gotta go. I still have fifty-three essays to grade before Friday.”

“Well alright Commander,” says Stiles, relief bleeding liberally into his voice. “Make sure to report to duty and finish all your navigation reports!”

Derek shakes his head fondly, “Derek out.”

“Dismissed!” and without further ado, Stiles hangs up.

Derek smiles blissfully at his phone for a few more minutes before determinedly dragging the stack of essays towards him.

 

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

 

Three torturous days later, Derek trudges into his Friday afternoon lecture with all the graded papers burning a brand into the fabric of his messenger bag. He glares morosely at all the students filing into the lecture hall, all of them haggard and limp from the rest of their midterms. The little bastards.

“All right, all right, sit your asses down and shut up,” growls Derek.

His students snap to attention and rush to do his bidding, while Derek gets a sick sense of enjoyment from watching them all scramble to get to their seats, every single one of them knowing that the last to sit down gets to hand back the papers.

“Well I figure I should put you out of your misery, and mine, and let you know that the class average for this assignment was a staggering… ” He pauses for dramatic effect, watching his students wait on baited breath, “Seventy-four percent.” The collective sigh of relief is almost strong enough to visibly permeate the room, some of the kids dropping their heads down to the desks in sheer happiness. Derek snorts at their dramatics, immensely pleased with their progress over the course of the semester.

“Exactly, and I expect you’ll all do better on the second assignment coming up in another three weeks,” he barks, listening to the symphony of exasperated groans echoing throughout the room. “Calm down, calm down. You’ll all be doing much better by then. I’m sure of it,” he smirks encouragingly.

Derek lets his eyes wander, scanning the room as he continues on with his lecture, one of the over-achievers in his class having volunteered to hand out the graded papers to their owners. After the first hour, he lets them out for a ten-minute break, and bolts over to the Starbucks in the next building for a fix of caffeine. Derek strides through the door with one minute to go and turns to apologize profusely when he roughly bumps into a gorgeous blonde with a stunning hourglass figure sitting at the back with her cellphone out. His stomach drops uncomfortably as she smiles coyly, strangely predatory, and Derek rushes back to the podium at the bottom of the lecture hall.

Taking a sip of his caramel macchiato, he briefly scans the crowd to see who’s still hanging on. His eyes stop to rest on the blonde woman in the back row, and the hooded figure sitting diminutively beside her, trying hard to be as small as possible. His red hoodie pulled up over a black beanie, thick-rimmed glasses obscuring the guy’s eyes. Derek squints curiously.

Is he really that terrifying? Or are the first years just getting wimpier and wimpier? Derek ponders this as he calls the class to attention once more, opening up the PowerPoint presentation on the projector. About half an hour later he notices the class’ energy flagging, quietly bemoaning the inconvenient Friday afternoon lecture.

A sudden flurry of movement from the back of the class draws Derek’s attention away from the charts and graphs of sports advertising strategies. He glares up the rows towards the disturbers, just in time to see the blonde grin at him, and whip her friend’s hood off his head. Derek watches as the young man’s eyes widen comically before flailing away from his friend’s flawless manicured clutches.

Derek’s mouth dries out as he takes in the smooth, pale slope of the man’s collarbone, the constellation of moles doting along the path from the base of his neck to his jaw. The high, sharply sculpted cheekbones drawing up to the thick-rimmed black Ray Bans sitting perched on his nose and his lips. Dear god his _lips_.  They’re _perfect_ , not too thin but not too thick, just right for drawing tight around Derek’s cock. Derek’s jeans constrict uncomfortably as he imagines those soft, pink lips stretched tight around the girth of his cock, sliding sensuously up the length, the perfect, wet tongue tracing the head and teasing the slit.

But it’s the young man’s _eyes_ that have Derek’s attention. Warm, amber flecked with light shades of light brown interspersed, like aged whiskey with tiny chocolate shavings floating in the same glass. The late afternoon sun filters gently through the wall of windows to cut across the young man’s cheekbones, bringing out the amber of his eyes in contrast to the shadows making his jaw stand in sharp relief, the moles on that side of his face gleaming darkly like spots of blood. And then, he locks eyes with Derek.

Derek feels about two seconds away from swooning like a Victorian maiden.

Instead, he shakes himself off and visibly collects his thoughts enough to finish the last portion of his lesson. He has just enough of his mental facilities intact to gratefully accept the attendance sheet before curtly dismissing his class for the weekend. As the students file dejectedly out of the room Derek watches the blonde lean down and whisper something into her friend’s ear, who then blushes a flaming scarlet and bats her hands away. She struts off laughing to herself and sashays out of the lecture hall without further ado.

Derek swallows the last of his macchiato, quenching his parched throat, and begins to pack up his materials. A heartbeat later, he hears the telltale squeak of sneakers on the linoleum floor of the stairs.

“Derek?” he asks tentatively.

Upon recognizing the voice, Derek whips his head up to stare incredulously, “Stiles?”

Stiles face breaks out in a wide grin, “Oh my _god_! It is you!” he steps forward to clap Derek on the shoulder. “Jesus you’re tall! And scruffy, it’s like revenge of the lumberjack or something with you!” He squints worriedly at Derek’s face, “When was the last time you even slept?”

“Probably when we last spoke on the phone.”

“ _What?_ Dude that was three days ago!”

“Yeah,” Derek yawns. “I really wasn’t kidding about all those papers you know.”

Derek slowly brings his eyes up to savour Stiles up close, to take in the spicy-clean scent of his soap, the rumpled beanie perched on his head, and the soft hair messed up beneath it. When he finally meets Stiles’ eyes again, he loses what he was going to say, his train of thought derailing completely from the tracks. Stiles flushes gently and looks down, embarrassed at the intense scrutiny.

“Yeah I know,” he says, self-deprecatingly. “Not exactly what you were expecting huh?”

Derek steps closer, his eyes darkening lustily, “No, not really.”

Stiles freezes, and then starts to shrink in on himself.

“You look even better than I’d ever hoped,” Stiles glances up shyly. “ _Fuck_ ,” breathes Derek, right inside Stiles’ personal space, “You look good enough to _eat_.”

Stiles relaxes, and draws in a shuddering breath to step closer, “Yeah? You’re not so bad yourself sourpuss. All rugged and growly and so fucking _gorgeous_.” His eyes flutter shut, plush mouth falling open obscenely as he breathes Derek in, and Derek _wants_. He wants to touch Stiles so fucking badly it aches in places he didn’t even know were there.

“ _Please_ ,” Derek rasps, fingers curling and uncurling desperately at his sides. “Can I touch you?”

Stiles grins playfully, his eyes like liquid gold in the fading sunlight, “I don’t know,” he drawls, “ _Can_ you professor?”

Derek’s eyes crinkle at the corners, “Oh I think I can do more than that.” He slowly turns them around so that Stiles’ back is at the desk, the TA moving forward with all the grace of a predator, boxing Stiles in. Stiles’ licks his lips, delicate pink tongue darting out to wet them.

“I think I need some help with my _hardrive_ sir,” growls Derek, bracing his arms on either side of Stiles body, the muscles on his biceps flexing powerfully.

Stiles shivers deliciously in his arms and leans forward, “Oh Jesus _Christ_ – “ and then he’s surging forward to wrap his arms around Derek’s broad shoulders, his lips and tongue plundering Derek’s mouth and leaving a trail of fire in its wake. Derek moans, revelling in the hot taste of Stiles’ mouth mixing with the leftover sweetness from his macchiato. Derek breaks away just long enough to blaze a trail of scorching kisses down Stiles’ pale neck, leaving a faint trace of redness from his stubble. He latches onto the lobe of Stiles ear and uses his teeth to scrape along the shell, wrenching a desperately needy gasp from Stiles.

“Are you sure,” another nip to Stiles’ ear. “This isn’t going too fast for you?”

“Jesus Christ _no_ ,” breathes Stiles. “And if you stop I actually will put a curse on your computer.”

“Oh the _horror_ ,” rumbles Derek playfully, mouthing directly into the hollow of Stiles’ throat.

Stiles lets out a warbling moan as his hips move sinuously against Derek’s front, the fabric of his jeans rubbing deliciously against Derek’s crotch. And then, with no warning, Derek releases Stiles’ throat, satisfied with the purple bruise sucked into the skin, and drops down onto his knees.

Looking down at Derek like a deer caught in the headlights, Stiles bites his lip and leans his head back wantonly. Derek nuzzles the front of Stiles' crotch and feels the hard length of the technician’s cock straining against the fabric of the jeans. Derek opens his mouth and drags the hot, wet length of his tongue along the outline of Stiles’ cock through his jeans, and the responding moan Derek gets more than makes up for the weird taste of jeans.

Derek pops the button on Stiles’ jeans and draws the zipper down slowly, carefully pulling Stiles’ half hard cock out of the tight briefs. Mouthing along the length of the shaft, Derek places the flat of his tongue along Stiles’ cock, and drags a hot, wet stripe up the length of it. Using the tip of his tongue he torturously draws out the head, flushed and dark purple and fucking _gorgeous_ , so that he can lave attention around the sensitive slit. Working the tip over and over until Stiles is writhing and clenching against the desk, his knuckles bone-white against the dark wood. Closing his lips around the tip, Derek places his tongue flat along the head and sucks, only releasing with a wet pop after Stiles whines prettily above him.

“Permission to come aboard Captain,” Derek drawls.

“Holy Jesus _chalupa_ ,” whines Stiles.

Looking up from his position on the floor, Derek realizes that Stiles’ red hoodie bears the Star Trek insignia proudly over his heart, and he grins up at Stiles.

“I thought you were the Captain?” he smirks, “And now you’re an engineering officer?”

“You keep talkin’ like that Commander, and I’ll have to confine you to the brig,” Stiles rasps.

Derek chuckles, and then swallows Stiles down to the root, his nose brushing the crisp hairs at the juncture of Stiles’ groin. His eyes water, throat flexing around the hard cock in his mouth, and he _sucks_. Stiles groans so loudly that he has to bite his hand to keep quiet, and Derek smirks proudly to himself around his mouthful. He slowly bobs his head up and down, retreating and then fully swallowing Stiles down again, the wet, sloppy sounds of suction echoing in the empty classroom. Derek pulls off with a slurp, his lips trailing a thin string of precome from the tip of Stiles’ cock and his own cock aching and heavy within his jeans.

“Ok get up here you!” and with that, Stiles yanks Derek up to drag him close enough to kiss. The taste of Stiles mixed with the leftover caramel melting warmly in their mouths.

“My turn,” Stiles purrs, and Derek has but a split second warning before he’s being spun around to lean his butt against the desk and Stiles is kneeling in front of him. He looks down into Stiles wide amber eyes, pupils completely blown in the low afternoon light, and dark with desire.

Without further ado, Stiles opens Derek’s pants and inhales his cock, loudly slurping and sucking on it with gusto. Derek’s eyes roll back in his head as pleasure licks through every cell in his body, concentrating in his cock, and he feels his balls drawing up tighter. Stiles relaxes his throat and takes him impossibly _deeper_ , and Derek feels so close it almost hurts. He looks down to watch Stiles enthusiastically suck his cock, watches the bright pink tongue lavish attention on the engorged head, and the luscious, wet lips stretch around his length. He was right, Stiles’ lips were fucking _made_ for sucking cock.

Suddenly, there’s a loud knocking on the closed door to the classroom. Stiles nearly chokes on Derek’s dick as he struggles to get up from his position on the floor.

“Hey boss?” Erica’s teasing voice drifts through the open crack in the door. “You guys might want to get another room. You can hear the slurping and moaning all the way down the hall.”

“ _Not another word,_ ” hisses Stiles venomously. “You will _not_ cock-block me again! Not like last time!”

“Relax boss, I’m just trying to help you _get_ laid. Later darlings, don’t forget to use protection!” and with that, Erica flounces off down the hall, her heels clicking along the hard tiles.

Stiles looks up at Derek from under his lashes, his cheeks flushed gorgeously and his glasses askew.

“So…” he trails off, embarrassed.

“My office. _Now_.” Growls Derek, still impossibly turned on despite the interruption.

“Oh _Commander_ ,” says Stiles, swooning dramatically as he can with his dick still hanging out of his pants.

Derek quickly tucks himself back into his jeans and, watching Stiles do the same, packs up the rest of his materials so quickly he nearly launches a pen into Stiles’ eyes.

As soon as the door to Derek’s office is shut and securely locked Derek has Stiles backed up against it and proceeds to plunder his mouth, groping for the button on his jeans once more.

“What do you, _ah_! Want?” gasps Derek, Stiles taking hold of his dick.

“Honestly? I’ve wanted your cock in my ass since forever, so let’s get this show on the road sourpuss.” And then Stiles gently guides Derek to the desk, tugging him along sensually by his cock. Derek follows willingly, desperate to follow the warm, soft hands touching the length of his dick so reverently.

Locking his lips to Stiles’, Derek blindly thrusts his hand into the side pocket of his discarded messenger bag, rooting around for the lube and his wallet, holding the lone condom in his possession. It’s been a long dry spell.

Instead, he only pulls out the lube, stumped as to where his wallet has gotten to. Stiles grins maniacally and pulls Derek’s wallet out of the back of the TA’s jeans, where he’d put it in his rush to pack up. Derek chuckles, embarrassed at his lapse in memory, and Stiles pulls him down for another scorching kiss. Derek feels the persistent tug of Stiles’ hands against his dress shirt, trying to pull the buttons out of their respective holes without ripping, so Derek pulls away to tug his shirt off over his head. Stiles’ mouth falls open in awe and, stripping out of his clothes as fast as humanly possible, nimbly hops up onto the edge of the desk to beckon Derek closer.

Derek doesn’t disappoint, leaving his jeans unbuttoned and barely hanging onto his hips, he steps into the cradle of Stiles’ legs and grabs a handful of ass to pull him forward.

“Mmmm,” hums Stiles, licking his lips. “Commando for the Commander. I _like_.”

Derek nips at Stiles’ chin, “I’ll bet you do. Spread your legs?”

“Command confirmed,” and Stiles lies back to showcase his long, leanly muscled body. Derek’s mouth waters as he drinks in the sight of Stiles’ long legs splayed over the edge while his torso stretches out deliciously along the length of his desk. Derek hitches Stiles’ legs over his shoulders and kneels down so that his face is level with Stiles’ cock. Gently mouthing along Stiles’ sac, he licks delicately along his balls, listening to Stiles’ breath hitching above him.

“Is this okay?”

“ _Yes_! Oh god yes!”

“Good. Take a deep breath Stiles.”

“What – ”

Then Derek dives down to nose beneath Stiles’ balls, to the tight furl of his asshole. He slides the flat of his tongue slowly over the muscles, feeling them clench and unclench sporadically. Stiles continues to heave for breath, drawing in each gulp of air like it’s his last, as Derek continues his assault on Stiles’ entrance. Ever so slowly, Derek works his tongue past the tightly coiled muscle and into Stiles. The clenching muscles turning bright pink with every pass of Derek’s stubble, his hole getting looser and sloppier as Derek licks and stretches Stiles. Soon, a lubed finger is added alongside Derek’s tongue, making Stiles gasp for breath even though it slides in easily.

Within moments Derek adds a second finger, gliding in alongside the first through the sloppy mess of Stiles’ asshole. Stiles makes a punched out sound as Derek works a third finger in alongside the others, his tongue flicking in and out rapidly, every nerve on fire. Derek looks up to Stiles’ cock, flushed a dark purple and drooling precome all over his stomach.

“Making such a mess there Stiles,” another lick. “I may have to use my tongue to clean you up.”

“Jesus – ”

“But I can’t really move my mouth right now,” a finger brushes teasingly along Stiles’ prostate. “Or my fingers. _God_ I just want to pound into your ass until it’s red and sore and you can still feel my cock in you for _days_ after this.”

“Holy fu – ”

“Wanna fill you up with my come, and listen to you beg for more,” all three fingers press solidly against his prostate, and then stretch him out, tugging on the rim of Stiles’ entrance. “Wanna make you so wet and sloppy that I can just slide right in anytime, keep you on edge and _gagging for it_.”

“Oh my _god_ you dirty talk like a _motherfucker._ ”

Derek responds by shoving his tongue in beside his fingers, stretching Stiles farther than ever before, and Stiles cries out as the white-hot tendrils of pleasure rocket through his body.

“Oh my _god_ Derek I’m _so_ fucking ready you need to get your cock in my ass _now_ or I swear to god I will kill you!” Stiles snarls, his body straining and slick with perspiration.

Derek smiles wolfishly, “Patience is a virtue.”

“Not right now it isn’t!”

Derek removes his fingers from Stiles’ ass and moves to grab the condom, but Stiles beats him to it. Leaning up from his prone position to open the package, Stiles bites his lip in concentration as he rolls the condom onto Derek’s cock. Grabbing the lube, Stiles slicks up the TA’s cock and grins up at him through his long lashes, eyes sparkling with mischief and arousal.

“But,” Stiles stops pumping Derek’s cock, and Derek whines prettily. “This desk isn’t so comfortable on my back, wanna switch to a different position?”

Derek starts guiltily, not having considered Stiles’ discomfort with the current arrangement, “Yeah! Sorry, what position do you want?”

“I was thinking that I need a better grip,” and with that, Stiles slides sinuously off the desk and drapes himself over it, his ass raised high in the air. Derek’s brain nearly short circuits at the sight of Stiles spread out so wantonly, the long expanse of his back, dotted with moles, leading down to the deliciously stretched redness of Stiles’ puffy hole, slick with lube and saliva.

“Look at you,” Derek plasters himself to Stiles’ back, gripping his own cock firmly, “Spread out and gorgeous. And all for _me_.”

Stiles whines as Derek gently runs the tip of his cock from the top of Stiles’ hole down to the soft skin behind his balls, teasing and sparking pleasure up his spine.

Then suddenly, Derek aligns himself and enters Stiles, sliding in smoothly through the mess of lube and spit. Derek has to bite his lip, almost to the point of drawing blood, to keep himself from coming in two seconds flat. His cock glides through the mess, slicking the way and creating the most delicious friction. Derek picks up the pace, and watches Stiles’ reactions, from the flush of his cheeks to the dishevelled state of his glasses and the ridiculous beanie still on his head. Ripping off the beanie, Derek tosses it over his shoulder, and uses the long strands of hair to tug Stiles’ head up off the desk, pulling him back further onto Derek’s cock.

The thrusts into Stiles pick up, slamming into the tight heat over and over, withdrawing and entering into the warmth of his ass. Derek looks down at Stiles’ form, delirious with pleasure and moaning loud enough that his neighbouring TAs _must_ be hearing them. Derek’s eyes darken lustfully and he picks up the pace, slamming into Stiles so hard and so fast that the desk hits against the wall with every thrust.

Stiles cries out in bliss, the wood of the desk providing just enough friction on his cock to be pleasurable, and bites down onto his thumb to stop from screaming like a banshee.

“No, no,” chides Derek, still slamming into him ruthlessly. “I want to _hear_ you. Wanna hear you beg for my cock, listen to your moans, and I wanna hear the sound of me pounding into your ass so hard you’ll be feeling my cock for _weeks_ after this. I want you to be so drunk on me that you forget everything but the feel of my cock taking you apart, filling you up so full you don’t know what you’ll do when I leave.” Derek slams in and stops, grasping Stiles’ hips bruisingly, rotating his hips torturously slow to contrast the frantic thrusting of before.  Stiles cries out ecstatically, Derek’s dick pressing down brutally into his prostate.

“Oh god _please_ Derek I need to come please let me come oh my _god_ – ”

“ _Touch yourself_ ,” snarls Derek, resuming the punishing pace.

Stiles obeys and, within seconds of his hand touching his rock-hard cock, is coming in hot stripes all over the side of Derek’s meticulously organized desk. Feeling the brutal tightening of Stiles ass clenching around him, Derek’s whole body tenses up as he comes, hands gripping Stiles’ hips and nearly screaming himself hoarse. Derek listens to the rough sounds of his breathing, and calms himself by measuring the rapid staccato notes of Stiles’ wildly beating heart. Cock softening, he pulls out and discards the condom in the small trash can beside his desk, grabbing a couple Kleenexes, he wipes up the mess between Stiles’ cheeks.

Stiles stands up and turns around, his mouth obscenely pink from where he’d been biting it, and gently loops his arms around Derek’s shoulders to tangle his fingers in his hair. Derek sighs into the kiss, wrapping his arms around Stiles’ naked waist. As he moves to step back: his pants, having never been fully removed in the ensuing scuffle to grab the lube, cause them to fall backwards as gravity intercedes to drag them down to tumble together awkwardly on the floor.

They lie there panting, Derek with his pants halfway down his legs, and Stiles with his lopsided glasses and mussed up hair. Suddenly, Stiles bursts out laughing, and Derek soon follows.

“Well!” laughs Stiles, cheeks flushed and eyes bright, “That was certainly something!”

Derek chuckles and looks over at Stiles, “Something we could maybe repeat? Exclusively?”

Stiles glances over at Derek, shocked and pleased at the request, and flashes him a blinding grin.

“That would be most logical Commander!”

Derek rolls his eyes fondly. 


End file.
